❝ they're fucking dead . ❞
@bloodybcrbie // inbox prompts.
It was meant to be a night out, a chance for the two of them to have something that finally resembled that of a date. How many nights they spent at the trailer park together, and how he knew they were far more than just friends- but this was meant to be something special. A few drinks out, with plans to take her home, what he didn’t expect was the way jealousy would rear its head, the moment other men would step into the picture. In truth it was something he should have expected, almost inevitable to happen, given her looks and figure. Perched at the corner of the bar, no matter how close he sat, the way a hand would move to her thigh, there was always someone who was too drunk, too stupid to try and cut between them anyway. He’d warned them once- but it seemed threats were never enough.
The taste of copper still lingered in his mouth, mingling with the remnants of whiskey from his last shot. Blood was still fresh, drying on his skin, and drenched his clothes to a color so dark it was that of a black ichor in the darkness of the night. What was his and theirs he could not say, all he knew was he did what he had to in order to teach them a lesson. What he didn’t want to explain was the way he managed to stuff them both into the trunk of her car. How he sat, perched atop it after, caught in the act of wiping his face when he’d hear her voice ring out. ‘They’re fucking dead.'
Gaze flickered up from the mess on his hands, a short, hard sniff of the lingering taste of a bloody nose would fill the silence as he’d slide off the back of the car. Handprints were evident, stamped all over the back where the trunk would latch, having used the weight and heft of the metal frame to help cave their skulls in and finish them off. They deserved it, after all, following him out when he’d step out for a smoke. Threatening him was one thing, but so much as mentioning Tiff was enough to send him over the edge. Two versus one, and still they didn’t stand a chance, too drunk to put up much of a fight- at least he was able to enjoy himself, walking away with only a few bruises in comparison to them.
He'd clean this mess later, once they were home, but now he had to deal with the wrath of his girl. Eyes fixated on her as the sound of her heels were quick to close the space between them. Even when she was fuming, she was beautiful, even as she’d point a well painted finger at his chest, how he couldn’t help but smile- like murder was hardly more than a game in his eyes.
“Well darlin’ that’s what tends to happen when things don’t exactly go to plan.” A hand would raise to take hold of hers, in a way, to comfort her, but in a way to also keep her close, should she try to push him away. “All they had to do was mind their business and keep their hands off you- but they couldn’t even do that now, could they?” His head would tilt then, his eyes darker than usual with the dimly lit alley they’d found themselves parked within. He’d lean in, closing the space between them slowly, the tension between them tangible, as his voice fell into hardly more than a whisper. “No one lays a hand on you but me- and if I gotta kill someone to let them know- well, guess they gotta learn the hard way now, don't they?”